


Rewrite The Stars

by artemisia_HQ



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Businesses and Companies, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hinata is a genie and Kageyama is a rich boy that's all you need to know, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, This is chaos basically, modern fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28241007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisia_HQ/pseuds/artemisia_HQ
Summary: Kageyama accidentally discovers a sprightly, terribly loud genie. Now equipped with the power of three wishes—and the unsolicited, non-wishes advices from the nosy genie—Kageyama tries to win over a girl, in hopes to save everything his grandfather built, and along with it, his father's finicky approval. But Fate decides to take a spin on their tale, and the'master'and 'servant'suddenly find themselves wishing for things they want rather than need, to be free from the bounds of responsibilities and rules.Nothing comes for free, and they will soon find out that to truly get your heart's desires, sacrifices rather than wishes have to be made.Art by Talia (@TaliaMamane)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Kagehina Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, my blueberry baby Tobio!!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノI know it's a bit late, but I still count this as a clutch save lmao XD
> 
> ***
> 
> I've had this idea for almost a year now, literally just came to me while I was preparing dinner. I then started to write bits and pieces of the dialogue for it, but only got around to actually conceptualize the plot when I signed for the big bang, and only started writing around a month ago. I am nowhere near finished with this, but let me just tell you that this is probably the hardest, riskiest thing I have ever written. You know I LOVE to write canon stuff and I am virtually inexperienced when it comes to AUs, especially of this scale, so please be lenient with me T^T
> 
> And to anyone who's curious, yes, the title is from the song of the same name. It just struck me as very appropriate with its theme of star-crossed lovers, so there ya go XD
> 
> ***
> 
> A little disclaimer for the age-difference bit: Hinata is immortal in this, and can change his appearance from being a teenager (17-18ish) to a young adult (21-22ish). Kageyama is in between that apparent age, so he's either older or younger than Hinata, but technically, Hinata is older. I'm sorry if that's confusing lol. If any of that bothers you, I apologize and you always have the option to not read :)
> 
> ***
> 
> Buckle up, kids, cause this is going to be one heck of a roller coaster ride (●'◡'●)

Tobio never believed in wishes.

Although, that might not be entirely true. There must be a time—maybe when he was young and naive and impressionable—that he did believe in them, that if he longed and hoped for the things he wanted, desired for it hard enough, it would most definitely come true. That there must be something, _someone_ , listening out there, just waiting for those heartfelt dreams of longing and yearning to capture and collect, just biding its time for the right moment to grant them when you least expect it.

But Tobio knows better now. Those are childish follies and fairytales, meant to give false hope and encourage blind faith—all of which are things that constitute the perfect recipe for one’s downfalls. It’s a cutthroat world out there, unforgiving and harsh and unfair, where things like wishes and dreams are immediately crushed to a bitter pulp.

Hardwork and grit, putting actual, methodical work—now those are the things that actually take you somewhere. Maybe not enough to climb that steep ladder of whatever epitome of success you’re aiming for, but at least there’s progress. But as heartless and coldblooded reality is, people still try to conform around it, whether they’re unaware of it or not. It’s that unending need to be validated, to be deemed included. Accepted.

So maybe wishes are just intrinsic in human nature.

And maybe that’s why Tobio is starting to believe in them again.

Wait, no, scratch that. He _wants_ to believe again because for the first time in his life, he has no clue what to do.

The event that transpired just over a week ago starts trickling back in his mind, and with a sharp click of his tongue, he twists his motorcycle’s throttle, hoping the sudden acceleration will help the wind whisk away all the frustration bubbling up under his skin. It doesn’t, though, but the blur of the background and the adrenaline-high thrill of speeding with his motorcycle on the open road is enough to quell his annoyance.

But just barely.

He’s not really running away from it, no, but just...setting up space in his brain to figure out what in blazing _hell_ is he going to do next. He’s run out of options—a thing he’s never had to deal with before. He’s so used to having all available resources handed to him in the blink of an eye whenever he needed them, not to mention his own ingenuity that saved him, their _family_ , in dire straits countless times before.

That train of thought stirs up the bitter irritation percolating through his veins even more. All of those feats and efforts were all trampled into nothing but insignificant specks by this stupid, _stupid_ thing. He doesn’t even want to think about the bigger issue, the more pressing one, and the worst part is _both_ issues would have been easily dealt with if he wasn’t—if he could just—if _she_ could just—

With another frustrated grunt and another roll of his wrist, he sends himself and his KTM flying. He zips through the road with ease, turning and accelerating almost on reflex despite the shitstorm going on inside his head. After a few more minutes and about a quarter of a kilometer riding through a dirt road, he finally reaches his destination.

He parks his motorcycle by a low-lying pine tree at the foot of the small hill and takes off his helmet. It’s the middle of summer, and a thin sheet of sweat has accumulated in his brow, damping his hair, and it slightly slicks back when he brushes it back.

He catches sight of the fairly decent-sized house a few meters ahead and contemplates if he should look for the caretaker, but then decides against it. He’s not even sure if there still is one.

The trudge uphill is just a short five-minute hike. He takes a generous moment to appreciate the stunning scenery from below and beyond, before he stares up at the alabaster white mausoleum. He always wondered why they made this place so Westernized, but then again, it doesn’t really matter—Tobio long since abandoned believing in whatever higher power entities there are, much less conform every little thing just to please them.

The vines that creep up and around the iron gates and the patches of moss that cling on the walls decidedly confirm his no-caretaker assumption. He tries not to think much about it, even though he can’t deny the jagged slash of worry and guilt that hits him in the gut. With an exhale, he unlatches the bolt. He doesn’t find it surprising that the gate is unlocked; it always is, and technically, there’s nothing of great value that could be stolen from this place. Nothing, except to Tobio.

The door creaks a little as he opens it, echoing through the empty hall. Beams of light enter through the large glass-stained windows like spotlights, and a soft breeze ruffles the small, dried up leaves on the tiled floor. His footsteps are deafening in all the stillness, the silence ringing when he stops by a raised platform. It always reminded Tobio of some kind of dais, and every time, he decides that it seems fitting, because the person resting on top of it deserves the highest honor.

As if in defiance with the unnecessary lavishness of the room, his grandfather’s urn stands simple and bare. No embellishments or over-the-top ornates, just a solid, dark blue ceramic jar. It is enclosed in a glass, though—the only jar separated from the rest of the dozen other urns sheltered in the columbarium at the end of the platform. Tobio presses his hand against it, ignoring the thin layer of dust.

It oddly feels warm, as always. He closes his eyes but doesn’t say anything, because no matter how emotional and sentimental he gets to the only person he’s ever been, talking to the dead is pointless. Tobio is also not too keen about spirits and souls, and wherever his grandfather is right now, he sure isn’t here. Tobio just needs a place to clear his mind and decompress, and being here always does that to him—no matter how weird or creepy this whole ritual is, admittedly.

And that’s where he starts to feel it again—that uncontrollable instinct to wish for irrational, impossible things.

The trek downhill takes faster than it did up, maybe it’s gravity or his long legs or whatever psychological thing that’s going on about return trips being shorter. Maybe coming here didn’t exactly give him the sense of peace he’s been wanting. Damn it, he doesn’t want to admit it, but it made him even more annoyed and anxious and lost. And just the thought of tainting the only place where he can go to for serenity multiplied his apprehensions even more.

Or maybe it’s his grandfather’s way of saying to stop seeking solace with the dead and start facing reality.

He’s about to hop on his motorcycle when a streak of something _shiny_ forces him to look down, almost like a sudden compulsion. All he sees is dirt. He frowns, then shrugs; must be the hunger making him see things. He’s halfway through climbing his bike when he catches sight of it again, this time, the reflected light from whatever it is seems to flash directly at his eyes, making him squint. Cursing under his breath, he crouches down to dig through the dirt, unearthing whatever the fuck is adding to his pile of annoyance right now.

If only he knew the chaos he’s unleashing into his life.

It’s a ball, no bigger than a marble, and Tobio has been exposed to it enough to know that the thing he’s holding in between his thumb and index finger is solid gold. That, and it weighs heavier than it looks. And it’s warm, as if it's pulsating with life.

He holds it up the light and turns the golden marble around, eyes narrowed in perusal. He can see something moving in it, swirling and rippling all over the sphere, but bits of dirt still cling around it, so he rubs the marble in the hem of his leather jacket to get a proper look.

Okay, now he’s getting freaked out. Not only is the ball silver now, it feels significantly lighter, like it's been emptied. The heat is also gone.

He snorts out a chuckle. It must be spray-painted on or something by some kid or prankster thinking it’s funny to leave golden marbles around, and—

“Shit,” Tobio hisses as he frantically checks his jacket for gold paint stains. It’s as black and sleek as ever, with a few bits of dirt from when he cleaned it off the marble, but aside from that, his jacket appears devoid of any paint smudges. He sighs in relief.

“That’s a first. I haven’t been rubbed by leather before.”

Tobio almost stumbles down on the ground at the sudden lilting voice emanating from above him. His eyes go wild and frenzied as he searches up at the branches of the low-lying pine tree. He sees nothing but foliage, its gnarly branches empty except for a few birds here and there. His initial shock starts tapering off, the rapid pounding in his chest slowly easing, but it’s now quickly replaced by gurgling heat of irritation.

 _It’s just the wind_ , he tells himself. Hell, it’s probably just the birds twittering away since the _‘voice’_ sounded too pleasing and cheerful, the small giggle that preceded it resonated like bells ringing with how amused it sounded, and _wow_ , Tobio really must be losing his mind if he can give a distinct and precise description of that imaginary voice.

An imaginary voice that would _perfectly_ fit the boy straddling his bike, leaning right up at Tobio’s face when he turned. Two golden orbs stare back at him, exactly the same color as the marble did, as if those sunset pools sucked the color right off the sphere. And it feels like Tobio is getting pulled in, too, mesmerized by how warm and gleaming and _beautiful_ those jeweled eyes are.

He leaps back, yet still gawking at the boy now standing on the cowl cover of his bike, his lithe body inclined towards Tobio, big, glittery eyes still pinned on him. Even through all the confusion and _‘what the hells’_ and _‘am I going crazys’_ running through his mind, Tobio’s logical brain still has the capacity to insert _‘why is he not falling out of balance with his body all angled like that?’_

He realizes it as soon as he notices it. The boy, or whatever this _thing_ is, can’t be bothered by logic or gravity because he’s not standing on Tobio’s motorcycle—he’s _hovering_ above it.

“Wha—What—y-you—what—”

It’s confirmed. Tobio has absolutely, 100%, completely lost his mind.

The boy—thing, _creature_ —straightens up and makes that melodious laugh again that harmonies with the chirping of the birds. His green open vest flutters when he moves closer to Tobio, sandaled feet gliding in the air. Tobio holds his ground despite every ounce of instinct in his body telling him to run—or maybe he's lost control over his limbs, too, gone wherever his sanity is right now.

The boy stops mere inches from his face and smiles, glowing like a light bulb with his amber-lit eyes and flaming burnt-orange hair.“Hi! I’d go for the usual _‘your wish is my command’_ shtick, but that’s kinda cliché, right? So, drop ‘em wishes and let’s get this started!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update every few days, or as soon as I finish a chapter, as this is a WIP (^人^)


	2. Chapter 2

Tobio spent almost half his life doing the opposite of wishing. He goes for the tangible certainties, the one that leads to actual, hard-earned results. He’s been groomed and primed to take no shortcuts, every move calculated, every piece a part of an even bigger puzzle—learned that there’s no problem that cannot be solved with an ironed out strategy. And he’s good at it, _really_ good. Not because it’s to be expected as the only heir to one of the largest sports equipment companies in East Asia, but because he likes it. Getting things done and doing it right is just...so damn satisfying.

And he’s so used to this infallible formula that the concept of making mistakes and committing errors started to become meaningless. He’s so used to this idea of yielding nothing less than perfection that he may have innately started to think that there’s nothing more his company can ask of him that he cannot deliver.

How _tremendously_ wrong he was.

It was a fairly normal day—or as normal as a day for a twenty-year-old executive vice president can be. Tobio was on his way to his office to get a headstart on the site surveillance data for the new branch they were planning on opening in Osaka when he got a call.

Ten minutes later and he was standing in front of an amber mahogany double-door, waiting patiently to be called in. He studied the intricate woodwork—everything hand-carved, he surmised—as he waited, and realized that it’d been a while since the last time he was in the spot he was currently in, both literally and figuratively.

“I’m sorry for the wait, sir. The president is ready to see you now.”

Tobio stood straighter, picked off a microscopic lint off the hem of his suit, and nodded at the staff.

The looming doors opened and Tobio entered with caution, as if he was walking straight into the lion’s den. Might as well be, because the absolute agitation of being confined in this room—despite it occupying half of the entire floor—was stifling with pressure, air heavy and prickling. Tobio tried to keep his breathing even, flexing his fingers to keep his circulation going, but as he stepped closer and closer into the belly of the beast, the air seemed to be nearing freezing point.

He stopped exactly a meter away from the long stainless steel table. It was a huge contrast from the antiquity embedded in the room, the sleekness and modernity of the furnishing fighting off the golden warmth of the wooden panels and carved pillars.

A century might have passed before a clipped baritone finally acknowledged his presence.

“Hello, Tobio.”

The voice it belonged to turned from where he was looking over the floor-to-ceiling windows. And despite willing himself to remain impassive and composed, Tobio couldn’t help but take in a sharp inhale when the figure fully faced him, the intensity of those eyes sharpened by the steel-blue color in them—a complete mirror of Tobio’s own.

“Hello,” he greeted back in the same curt tone. “Dad.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his father’s face but Tobio knew it was far from affection, or even amusement. “It’s been a while since I heard you say that in reference to me.” He sat on the large leather chair and leaned back, extending a hand to gesture at Tobio to do the same.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you,” Tobio said as he eased down on one of the noticeably less luxurious chairs than his father was sitting on, but still as fancy as the rest of the room.

“Hm. Maybe you ought to come up here more often.”

“I have things to do.”

“Of course.”

His father started rifling through some documents and that decidedly concluded their conversation, as Tobio expected. He couldn’t remember the last time he held more than three exchanges with his father, not counting the times they were in board meetings, and even then, the president rarely attended them in person.

Tobio studied his father as he worked. Even though he was just signing off papers, there was efficiency in his movements. But as immersed as Tobio was by the system with how this literal working machine operated, he started to see past them, blurring, as his focus shifted.

His fathers hands were calloused. Oh sure, his nails were immaculately manicured and no doubt the faint smell of cedar was from the hand lotion his massage therapist used, but the hardened bumps lining the digits weren’t hard to miss. The creases across his forehead were faint, but they deepened whenever he frowned, along with the lines in the corner and under his eyes. All proof that the man in front of him earned the literal throne he was sitting on and not handed to him on a silver platter.

It didn’t matter that Tobio thought of this man more as his _‘boss’_ than as his literal flesh and blood; pride still swelled in Tobio’s chest just the same.

“Free your schedule for today.”

Tobio snapped back to attention. “Huh?”

His father looked up briefly, taking a quick look at Tobio from head to toe, before resuming attention to his piles of papers. “And wear something nicer.”

Tobio looked down at himself. He was wearing a gray Armani suit and slacks, his typical working clothes. He frowned. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s too shabby. These people are hard to impress, Tobio,” his father said evenly, but the hints of exasperation edged in his tone. The wrinkle on Tobio’s brow tensed even more.

“Who are these...people, exactly?” he asked. Tobio tried not to let the annoyance creep in his voice at being addressed to in a way as if he was just some errand boy that took the boss’s coffee order wrong.

His father finally looked up. He leaned forward with his elbows propped on the table, fingers clasped as those dark eyes regarded Tobio with...something _foreboding_ that it made him instinctively lean back. The striking gaze suddenly molded into something dangerous and deadly, like a hundred knives slashing the air and hurling straight at Tobio, as this man that reeked of intimidation angled closer.

Threat. His father—the president, was _threatening_ Tobio.

All of the sudden, the massive room was shrinking, compacting into one tiny cube and flattening Tobio into an incapicated, useless sheet. He stood there motionless, the mechanics of breathing or even moving lost into the abyss, as the impact of realization wisped the air out of his lungs, out of his every tissue, out of every _fucking_ cell in his body.

He’s not called a prodigy, a genius, a _goddamn_ smart-ass, if he couldn’t decipher what that _threat_ was.

“Well, if things go well and we play our cards right, these people will become family.” A smile that looked more like a homicidal sneer crossed his father’s face. “And, you, my boy, will be my ace."

* * *

“Looking as pristine as ever, Yachi-san,” Tobio’s father said with a plastered smile as he extended his hand to the matriarch of Yachinari Incorporated.

Perfectly manicured and slender fingers met the outstretched hand into a firm handshake. “And you as well, Kageyama-san.”

The woman exuded elegance and grace, but hers transcended above the usual prim and proper demeanor of the other privileged woman Tobio had encountered before. There was an air of intimidation around her, that commanding presence that seemed to snap every living thing into attention. Power, that’s what it was.

The same couldn’t be said to the figure hovering behind her.

Tobio wouldn't have even noticed the girl if it wasn’t for her unusually blonde hair. Which was kind of ironic—why did she decide to color her hair so strikingly when she seemed to be trying _not_ to draw attention to herself, shoulders hunched and shrinking further and further into her mother’s literal shadow as Tobio stared at her.

Tobio tried not to take it too personally. It’s nothing new; he always had that effect on people.

The rest of the meeting went on as any other dinner meeting Tobio had attended before. His father and Yachi-san talked about business, nothing too intrusive or personal—just a casual conversation between two conglomerate powerhouses. Once or twice, the exchange drifted to other nonwork-related topics—Tobio’s breath held as he waited for the ‘M’-bomb to finally drop.

But it never came, not even a hint about it or any sign that the conversation was steering anywhere near that direction, and for a moment, Tobio considered the possibility he might be reading this the wrong way, and _boy_ , he never knew he could ever feel relieved at the prospect of being wrong.

That brief, blissful moment was disintegrated to dust as soon as the Yachis took their leave.

“I want you to make that girl like you,” his father said, all pretense of pleasantries stripped off his face in the absence of their guests. He was already typing away on his phone, not even bothering to look at Tobio as he talked to him.

“Uhh—what?” Tobio sputtered.

The tiniest exasperated sigh escaped from his father as he pocketed his phone and regarded Tobio. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with her or something atrocious like that. I want you to make _her_ fall for _you_. Enough to make her want to marry you.”

“No—I—” Tobio started and his father raised his brow. “No—I mean, I don’t understand. I thought—”

“What? You thought it’s going to be easy like that?” His father shook his head. “This is still business, Tobio. The Yachis are just another client.” He paused, and for a split-second, Tobio saw a glimpse of worry in his father’s apathetic face, then it was gone as soon as he saw it. “A very important client we need to win over no matter what.”

That only made everything so much more confusing. Tobio followed his father as they exited the executive suite of the five-star hotel they dined in, one of the Tsukishimas, Tobio had just noticed. That reminded him; he probably should text Kei for a drink tonight.

“Do you get it now, son? I’m betting my best asset for this transaction,” his father said once they settled inside the car. There’s not even an ounce of reserve in that statement; he probably thought calling Tobio his _‘best asset_ ’ was a compliment.

“I invested a lot on you. Make use of that and be useful for our company. Our family. That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Of course, what was he thinking? It wasn’t a compliment. It was a mere reminder. Because Tobio’s merits were consequential—only valuable when he offered results. Only appreciated when successful, forgotten as soon as he’s done, until they needed him again.

This was his life, his sole purpose and responsibility, and even though the flickers of defiance started to singe his edges, he answered, “Of course.”

Because, really, what else could he do? His life had been controlled the moment he was born, shaped and molded to someone’s favor. You could say it’s the price of living in luxury; Tobio would say it’s its curse.

Yet somehow, he had this weird suspicion that there was more to this _‘transaction’_ than met the eye. His father looked, for a lack of a better word, _desperate_ , which Tobio wouldn’t even believe himself if he wasn’t so used to his father’s stoic and ever-imposing persona. The president was always overflowing with confidence and self-assurance, but their recent exchange seemed to splinter that impenetrable armor, allowing Tobio a tiny glimpse of what could possibly be a smidgeon of weakness from the man he thought was unbreakable.

There was something strange going on, something... _bad_ enough that it would bother the president as much. That was distressing on its own, but Tobio couldn't deny that he was more concerned why the _hell_ he didn't know anything about whatever was troubling his father.

“Aw, the King is finally wooing a potential queen, huh?” Kei said with a smirk, and the jerk only scoffed obnoxiously when Tobio glared at him.

“That’s the least of my concern, you bastard.” He swirled the glass of cognac in between his fingers. “And don’t call me that.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Kei said dismissively as he downed his kahlúa. He pushed the empty glass on the counter and the bartender was quick to replace it with a filled one. He took another sip. “Just admit that you’re scared of getting dumped.”

“I-I’m not scared!”

“Pfft. Sure you aren’t. You haven’t even been with anyone before.”

Tobio sputtered. “I-I totally have! I’ve been with—with dozens of—of—anyone before!”

Kei raised a brow, peering at Tobio through his stupid glasses. “Uh huh. Give me a name then.”

Not for the first time, Tobio was questioning how and why he is friends with this bean-poled jerk in the first place. He stabbed his _friend_ with a jagged glare before breaking eye contact with a sharp click of his tongue. Kei chuckled like the devil incarnate that he was.

“Remind me why I hang out with you again,” Tobio grumbled.

“Because I’m your only friend.”

“I’m starting to doubt that designation, actually.” Tobio finished the cognac in his hand. He flashed a palm at the bartender before he could fill his glass. He already had two, and he couldn’t afford another source of headache right now.

Kei sighed. “So, that’s all what you want to talk about?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“As I said, you’re overthinking as usual.” Kei put down his glass and leaned on the counter. “If you’re worried about the engagement—” he paused with a snicker “—or not-yet-engagement. Whatever. You can’t afford to be. You should have seen this coming.”

“I know that,” Tobio said. He sighed as he caged his head with his hands, propping his elbows against the marble slab. “That’s not my problem. Although, yes, I admit, I don’t have a fucking clue how to win over that girl or make her l-like me or whatever. She even looks at me as if I’m going to kill her.”

“You do look homicidal sometimes.”

“Shut up.”

“Did you even have a chance to talk?”

Tobio shook his head. “I mostly talked to her mother. She didn’t initiate any conversations, so I didn’t either.”

Kei chuckled at that and Tobio frowned. “What?”

“For all the things you’re annoyingly _exceptional_ at, you’re still hopeless when it comes to actual human interaction.” Kei cocked his head to the side with all the finesse of derision. “Or are we mere mortals too lowly for his majesty to associate with?”

“I swear to god, Kei, I am this close to breaking your designer glasses,” Tobio gritted.

Kei swatted the threat with a wave of his hand. “Oh, lighten up, will you? I’m just teasing. I’ve met that girl once. Hitoka, right?” Tobio nodded. “Yeah, she didn’t seem the type to be all chatty. She’s too, I don’t know, fidgety? Nervous?”

“Yeah, she’s a far cry from her mother.”

“Right. But it does seem odd, though. Two powerhouse families setting up a meeting with their bachelor heirs and not a single word about getting you two together? Definitely suspicious.” Kei finished his kahlúa and signaled something to the bartender. “You want anything else?”

“Nah—” Tobio paused, considering for a second. “Actually, yes. I want some sparkling water. The one with blueberries and oranges.”

Kei snorted. “Blueberries and oranges. That’s so weirdly childish. It’s the lemon strawberry for me.”

“Oh, fuck off. It’s a great combo,” he countered as he reached for the tall glass the bartender slid toward him. He stirred the seltzer, watching as the pieces of blueberries and slices of orange swirled in the fizzy liquid, before taking a huge sip.

They drank in silence for a while. Tobio was halfway through his sparkling water when Kei spoke again. “You want me to investigate, don’t you?”

“Hmm.”

The interrupted silence resumed, Kei obviously taking his sweet time to decide and keeping Tobio in suspense, the sadistic bastard. But Tobio knew he piqued his curiosity, a feat not easily accomplished given how impassive Kei could be sometimes. He might be constantly teasing and mocking Tobio about his supposed emotional deficit, but he’s one to talk when barely anything could capture his interest except doing whatever it was he does on his computer.

“You know it’s not going to be easy flitting through your company,” Kei said as they slid off the counter. They both nodded at the owner of the exclusive bar, Ukai-san, from across the room before exiting through the double doors of the elevator flanked by two beefy guys. They bowed as they opened the elevator.

Tobio pressed the ground floor button. “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

Kei rolled his eyes in response. “Tsk. I know what you’re doing, Tobio. Cut that shit.” He pulled out his phone, typed something, before pocketing it again. “I’ll call when I get wind of something.”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you just ask your old man?”

“If he wanted me to know, I would've already. And wouldn’t be here asking for your help.”

“Touché.”

A midnight blue Audi pulled up by the hotel’s entrance as soon as they stepped out of the humid night air. The valet promptly got out of Tobio’s car and with a deep bow, handed him his keys. Tobio got on the driver’s seat and was about to close the car’s door when a hand closed around the edge of the door’s panel. Kei leaned in with a smirk curling his mouth.

“You owe me big-time for this.”

“Tsk. Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

The smug grin turned into an amused scoff, and with that, he closed the car’s door before Tobio could say another word.

* * *

Tobio didn’t have to wait long for Kei’s call. And it was on that fine Wednesday morning that Tobio’s world turned all hundred ways out of the axis, tipping him off his feet, and if he wasn’t sitting on his bed, he’d probably be a helpless heap on the floor.

He was confused at first, the mere idea of it making absolutely no fucking sense. There’s just no way...no way this was happening without Tobio knowing. Everything seemed perfect, all so seamless as they should, everything in their place as Tobio came to expect.

Then anger came barreling immediately after the initial disorient. Was it all just a façade? Was it all just a blanket of lies to cover everything from Tobio’s eyes, have him remain completely oblivious, lulling him into this false sense of security and assurance that everything he’d worked so hard for accounted for something? Contributed to the grand totality of what their family—his grandfather built from scratch?

It was that rage that took hold of all the reins in Tobio’s body, it was what made him charge straight to his father’s office without setting up an appointment, jostling past his assistants and bodyguards. How dare they. How dare he. Tobio wanted— _no_ —he _demanded_ an explanation. He had more than every right to it.

The conversation with his father was short-lived. A good thing, Tobio supposed, because one more word confirming what Kei had already told him would crumble the small piece of ground Tobio was standing on to dust. But it was steadily falling apart, pebble by pebble, rock by rock, as the harsh, painful truth finally sunk in.

His father explained everything in detail once Tobio calmed down. He was still reeling, but the rational part of him knew that it was bound to happen one time or the other. Everything ebbs and flows—this was just another hurdle they had to face. Truth was, they’d been here once or twice before, and they charged through all of that and emerged successful, albeit far from unscathed.

Tobio tried to console himself with that, but the magnitude of the dilemma they were facing now was of a different scale, chafing at an alarming, progressive rate if they didn’t manage to solve this fast. And as it stood, there was only one solution:

They needed to have the Yachis.

And Tobio would do everything to do just that, even at the expense of his freedom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! ❤❤❤

The following week was hell, to say the least.

After another favor from Kei, Tobio managed to get a hold of the Yachi heiress contact details. He took an unnecessary amount of time deciding whether he should call or send an email to invite the girl for a da— _friendly_ meeting, or if he should personally send the message or have his secretary do it for him.

Goddammit, why was he so wound up about this? It’s just another business client, no different from all the other clients he met all the time. It just so happened that the said client was a girl, who may or may not have already had a first bad impression of Tobio, judging from all the blanching and flinching when Tobio so much as took a glance at her during their first meeting. How do you go from _‘I’m only meeting you because my boss told me so_ ’ to _‘hey let’s meet up to talk about our wedding and the number of kids we’re going to have’_ ? Tobio shuddered violently at the _‘kids’_ part, silently questioning if his sanity was still intact for even thinking about it.

It took him an hour of stressful pacing around his office for him to decide to send an email himself. Then another hour of aggressively chewing the inside of his cheeks until he tasted metal waiting for the girl’s response. He had an abundance of pretty much everything, but patience was not one of them, and he was one second away from storming the Yachi building to personally demand that girl to meet up with him when an email notification chimed, effectively stopping Tobio’s hand from clutching and tearing his hair out from the scalp.

Tobio never once thought of himself as lacking. Call that egotistic or conceited, but the repertoire of above average skill sets and the feats he fulfilled were enough to show for the abundant confidence and self-assurance he possessed. His looks were nothing to scoff at either, despite his sister telling him to stop scaring their staff and employees with his death stares, and apparently, with the ever-present frown on his face. Not that it really mattered anyway; he wouldn’t be offered modeling and endorsement deals if he was a _‘menacing sour-puss who makes babies cry,_ ’ as Miwa would put it.

Point was, he’s probably subconsciously aware that there’s absolutely nothing that he couldn’t do and that weakness in any area was such a strange concept it didn’t even graze his mind, much less did he think it would eventually keep him wide awake at night, festering in self-doubt and having quite a _magnificent_ existential crisis.

Because, as it turned out, Tobio had absolutely no game.

Not that the few meetings he had with Yachi-san were complete disasters. Sure, she was still a bit fidgety and had a hard time looking at Tobio in the eye, but she could actually carry a conversation, even initiating topics on her own, much to Tobio’s relief. They talked about business, the places they’d both been to for business matters, business dealings that were absolute nightmares, and all other business topics—and that was the problem. That’s all they talked about, although if Tobio had any say in this, he would be perfectly content with just that. But even with his limited—okay, _non-existent_ experience in this department, he could tell that he was making no progress with the whole _‘make her heads over heels in love’_ agenda.

And Tobio’s father was not having any of it.

That was the tipping point. But as much as he wanted to be angry and lash out, he couldn’t. Because what good would that do? He just had to think of a different strategy to approach this, charge through at a different angle, and to do so, he needed to clear his head and take a breather, because if he didn’t, he might actually descend into madness.

But apparently, it’s too late. He’d already cracked and nosedived over to the deep end, the last glimpses of his mentality finally spiraling out of control.

Because there’s no other explanation for this...delusion...thing...whatever _this_ is that’s hovering over him, smiling widely, eyes sparkling as _it_ leans closer towards Tobio, and all Tobio can do is pull his eyes even wider, too paralyzed to do anything else except try to keep his breathing even.

“You have really pretty eyes,” the _thing_ says, pursing its lips as it scrutinizes Tobio’s face.

“What—” Tobio chokes out in a voice he’s sure he’s never used before. “What—you—you’re—”

The thing tilts its head at Tobio, brows knitting. “Are you okay? Oh no, you’re not broken, are you? I don’t know if I can fix a human. Is there some kind of special spell for that? Stupid, fragile humans and their stupid, narrow-minded brains...”

That whole mumbling nonsense and the blatant insults seem to switch on Tobio’s capacity to actually talk in complete sentences and he’s ready to go off because how _dare_ , but the first thing he blurts out is: “How the fuck are you floating?!”

His sudden outburst startles the thing, halting its cantering and mindless chatter as he paces back and forth two feet above the ground. It looks at Tobio like he’s the weird one here.

“Duh, it’s because I’m awesome,” the thing says obnoxiously. “You’re actually an idiot, aren’t you?”

“You—” Tobio seethes, but the entity just shakes its head and clicks its tongue.

“I came out of the marble after you rubbed it. I literally ask you for wishes. Aren’t those obvious enough clues for you to figure out what exactly am I?”

Tobio’s control over his limbs finally comes back. He ignores every piece of instinct in him telling him to get the hell out of there, but no one dares insult him and gets away with it, real person or no. He’s a good ten centimeters taller than this thing, and it looks nothing more than a normal-looking kid, even with his weird get-up and the whole floating issue.

He stalks right up to the it, and it flinches, hands coming up in a what looks like a defensive pose, but Tobio is quick to grab its stupid vest, glowering with murderous intent at those amber eyes widening in panic.

“Listen here,” he growls, the low timbre in his voice surprising even himself. The thing audibly gulps. “I don't know what trick you’re using, but if you think I’m buying this whole bullshit for you to con me, then, kid, you pick the wrong person to mess around.”

For a fleeting second, Tobio sees actual fear in the thing’s cu— _childish_ face, then everything tumbles and blurs, and suddenly he’s the one clutched by the collar by the kid-looking thing. Except it doesn’t look like a kid anymore. It got taller, for one. And got way, _way_ bulkier, its tanned, almost golden skin glistening under the sunny glow of high noon, muscles flexing as it effortlessly holds Tobio by his shirt with one hand, his toes slightly lifting off the ground.

“I think you’re the one who’s got absolutely no idea who you’re dealing with,” the entity says with unbridled amusement, smirking as it takes in the surprised look on Tobio’s face. Even its voice got deeper, but still has that distinct lilt in it.

“How the fu—”

“Aw, come on. Isn’t this already a dead giveaway?” The thing grumbles as it releases its hold on Tobio with a shove. “Can’t you at least take a guess?”

Tobio keeps himself from tripping all over his feet and finds his balance—he is _not_ falling down on his butt for the second time today. He glares at the thing as he smooths out the crinkle in his shirt, adjusting and pulling his jacket that went askew.

The thing just cocks his head at Tobio and crosses his toned arms across his equally toned chest, lips still curled into that cheeky, sideway smile that’s doing something weird in the pit of Tobio’s stomach. Must be irritation. Or hunger, he hasn’t had lunch yet.

He’s tired, both physically, mentally, _freaking_ emotionally, and he’s already got a lot on his plate right now and there’s no room for...whatever he’s dealing with at the moment.

“Just...just tell me what the hell is going on,” he mumbles, hands pressed on his temples to ease the impending headache for what could possibly be the stupidest, craziest thing he has to hear on top of everything else.

The thing snorts and blows a raspberry at Tobio. “Bleh. You’re no fun.” Then it glides forward smoothly, grinning. “I’m a genie!”

Tobio blinks. “Oh.”

It’s the mental fatigue, maybe, or he’s already given up trying to make sense of the situation, that he just accepts that ridiculous response. Or _not_ really ridiculous given everything he’s seen so far? He’s not even sure anymore.

The friendly smile turns smug, hands over hips, head tilting up. “The awesomest, handsomest—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“But I didn’t finish my introductory speech yet!” The thing—or _genie_ , whatever—grumbles, lips puckered in the most affronted face Tobio has ever seen and it’s annoying. So, so annoying that it brings heat to the tips of Tobio’s ears in disgust. Even _more annoying_ is the fact that it doesn’t look out of place in the genie’s now-rugged features. Tobio’s ears warm up even more to an alarming degree. God, he hates summer.

“I said I get it already!” Tobio huffs.

“But you ruined it! I prepared fireworks and everything!” 

“How can we even see fireworks in broad daylight, dumbass?” Tobio counters. 

The genie gasps, jaw dropping open. “You did _not_ just call me a dumbass.”

“I did and I can because you _are_ a dumbass.” Tobio scoffs. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The slacked jaw drops even further. “You still ask after all that? I even freaking transformed in front of you!” The genie whines, gesturing at its sandaled feet as it kicks and jumps in mid-air. “I’m floating! I’m wearing a vest!”

“The vest isn’t—” Tobio takes a measured breath, in and out. Calm, he’s calm. “You’re not human, that’s for sure. But how do I know that you can actually grant, lemme guess, three wishes?”

The genie just stares at Tobio, Tobio trying his best to maintain eye contact with those pools of gold. They’re mesmerizing, that he can admit, but there’s some sort of...melancholy in them, hidden deep within the glitter of mischief.

Then the genie bursts out laughing and Tobio immediately regrets feeling a pinch of empathy for this annoying little shit.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” the genie chuckles. “I know what you’re doing. I’ve been in the genie business for literally a thousand years, you are _not_ gaslighting me for a free wish.” It sneers mockingly. _“Dumbass_.”

“Tch.” Dammit, Tobio thought that would actually work. Whatever happened to his negotiating skills? Madness can take quite a toll on a person, it seems.

And maybe it’s the craziness that's making him desperate. Or this is the universe finally taking pity on him, even though the idea of being pitied by anyone, especially by whatever higher body there is out there, makes him want to throw up. But he’ll take it; he’ll take anything at this point. There’s a lot on the line and beggars can’t be choosers.

The genie is now straddling one of the branches of the pine tree. It seems to be having one serious conversation with the...birds?

“Oi, dumbass. What are you doing?”

“See? What did I tell you guys,” the genie stage whispers to the host of sparrows perching on the same branch it's sitting on. “He’s so rude even though—” it trails, voice lowering to an indecipherable murmur.

Tobio stares in disbelief as the birds incline towards the genie, as if they’re actually listening. That’s got to be at the top of the weirdest shit he’s ever seen. The genie giggles and the birds twitter, and Tobio cannot believe he’s being made fun of by a bunch of fucking birds.

“Oi! Stop laughing with the birds!” The laughter and chirping only gets louder. “Get down here, dumbass!”

The genie sticks its tongue out, and it's so disconcerting seeing it act so childish in that bulky and athletic appearance of his. It does heed Tobio, though, and leaps off the branch. It drops its feet on the ground in front of Tobio.

“Whatever you command,” it says, crossing his muscled arms across his chest.

Tobio drags a palm across his face. Is it just him or is this year’s summer so damn hot?

“Can’t you go back to being shorter?” Tobio asks.

A raise of a brow answers him. “Hm? You don’t like me in this form?”

“No,” Tobio says quickly and the genie’s brow quirks even higher. “I mean, yes, I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“It’s distracting,” Tobio says before he can stop himself, and he can only glare at the sideway smile forming on the genie’s lips. “I-I mean, you look weird! Wearing that stupid outfit and showing off—” God, he should probably just shut up now, but he just can’t stop his moronic mouth “—not that you have anything to show for, y-you weirdo! You’re better off looking like a midget than—” he makes weird gestures at the genie “—than that weird look!”

Tobio heaves, actually breathless from that whole rant, cheeks burning, and he looks off to his side with a scowl.

He can feel the genie staring at him, half-concerned, half-amused. Then it snorts. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you?”

Tobio whips his head back. “Excuse me?!”

“Nothing.” The genie grins. “Doesn’t matter, I look awesome either way.”

“You’re short,” Tobio says matter-of-factly.

“Being short has its own appeal. And besides—” It promptly lifts off the ground with a hop and in one blink, it’s back to looking like a kid, smiling widely. “—why do I need to be tall when I can fly?”

Tobio supposes he has a point. He watches as the genie twirls and leaps on air. It’s sort of entrancing, but Tobio blinks himself out of it.

“What’s your name?” he asks instead.

The genie’s sudden halt of its flight startles Tobio. It doesn’t move for a few seconds, looking oddly bewildered, as if it doesn’t understand Tobio’s question.

“My...n-name?” It whispers more to itself than to Tobio. Its face pinches up even more as it drops on the ground, staring at its sandaled feet.

When it looks up Tobio, it’s as if all the playful sparkle in those golden eyes faded, glazed over by that hidden sadness Tobio noticed earlier. He hardly even hears it when it speaks again.

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know your own name?”

The genie shakes its head. “No. Or I don’t remember. It wasn’t needed by my former masters, so…”

“What did they call you, then?”

“Just genie.” It laughs, but it sounds hollow. Empty. “I mean, why bother with a name when they only call on me when they want a wish granted.”

There’s no bitterness in that declaration, just resigned acceptance of the role it has to play. Because it has no say, nor a choice, just expectations to fulfill responsibilities, nothing more and nothing less.

Tobio doesn’t even realize he’s been clenching his fist, until the pain of his nails digging crescents in his skin snaps him out of it.

“Don’t worry! You can call me whatever you like!” The genie says, back to being overly cheerful, covering up that brief moment of glum. “Ah! But not dumb—”

“Hinata.”

“Uh...what?”

“Hinata,” Tobio says again. “That’s your name from now on.”

The genie blinks a dozen times at Tobio. “O-oh…” It starts fidgeting on its vest, eyes darting away and back at Tobio. “Why that name, though?”

Tobio shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s the first thing that came to me. Probably because it’s summer, and, like, your hair…”

A small hand instantly flies up to touch said hair. “My hair?”

Tobio groans, ignoring the flush seeping in his cheeks and the back of his neck. “Are you a parrot? Stop repeating everything! If you don’t like it—”

“I-I like it!” The genie shrills and it yells out a whoop and does a couple of backflips in the air. “I think it sounds cool and—and _guwaaah_! Hey, you’re not so bad, after all—” he pauses, suddenly looking sheepish. “Oops, I forgot to ask. What’s your name? Or do you want me to call you master?”

“No,” Tobio answers immediately.

“Oh...okay!” The genie doesn’t even try to hide his relief. “So…”

“It’s Kageyama Tobio.”

“Wow, you have two names! That’s awesome!”

Tobio’s retinas are probably being burned by the unnecessarily bright and blinding smile directed at him. He shoves that beaming face away before it can cause permanent damage to his vision.

“ _Oopf_ —hey—!”

“Come on,” Tobio says, and without waiting for the genie, uhh, Hinata, he stalks off into the direction of the small house. Hinata sidles up next to him in no time. Or hovers next to him, whatever.

“Where are we going?”

“To eat,” Tobio answers.

Hinata floats in front of Tobio, hands folded behind his head. “You can just wish for a feast. In any type of cuisine you like. I can even give you a menu.”

“I am not wasting any of my wishes for stupid things like that,” Tobio says as he walks around the floating idiot.

He hears Hinata gasps behind him, and suddenly he’s right at Tobio’s face, looking legitimately offended. “Hey! Food is not stupid!”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“Hmp! Whatever.”

But Hinata does shut up. Tobio sighs in relief, and for a few minutes, he savors the precious silence until—

“I can actually turn into a parrot, you know. Wanna see?”

“Oh god, please _don’t_.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tobio might have very limited knowledge about genies, but he’s pretty damn sure they’re not a giant blackhole masquerading as a teenage kid that inhales food as if they’ve been starved for centuries.

He did ask if that is the case, and the answer he gets is a snort and an impatient, ‘ _Of course not, dummy. I’m immortal, I don’t even need to eat,_ ’ before the glutton proceeds to scarf down a plate of steak. He even had the nerve to demand, ‘ _one more!_ ’ after he literally licked his plate clean. All Tobio can do is stare in disgust. Then he smacks him upside the head.

“That _hurt_!” Hinata wails as he clutches his head. “Why are you so violent?”

Tobio rolls his eyes as he cleans up the table. “I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“No, but did you really have to? You could have just asked me nicely. Why are you so—”

He tunes out the high-pitched blabbering as he loads the dishes in the washer. Apparently, genies are also big-mouthed little shits that ramble and whine and complain about every little thing. He’s starting to wonder if he found a defective one.

“—never met anyone this _rude_ and that’s saying something considering all the people I’ve met and the places I’ve been to. You know, one time, my master was this really scary, warrior dude from—”

Can Tobio get a replacement? Is there some kind of no-return-no-exchange-policy for found genies? Wait, can he wish that? Or maybe, he can entice Hinata with food and maneuver a free wish out of him. Is that cheating? That probably won’t work—Hinata might look and act dumb, but Tobio’s tactics so far are yet to be effective, though in his defense, his mind was reeling and probably too unhinged from what happened just over an hour ago to properly conduct an effective negotiation. Still is, to be perfectly honest.

Then there’s the fact that Hinata has been doing this...thing of his for a long, long time. That wasn’t a lie, Tobio can tell, and despite his apparent immaturity and impressionable attitude, there’s an air of agedness in him, bearing that aura of someone who’s seen and done things within each passing generations, things that Tobio is not so sure if he wants to know about. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“—it was like _waaaah_ ! Then we were like _woooaah_ ! But then he wished for a flaming sword and then he went _wooosh_ ! and _baam_ ! and it was _sooooo awesome_ —”

Very, very, _very_ subtle.

And Tobio should probably thread carefully and lean on the cautious side of things. The genie doesn’t look dangerous and threatening—far from it, even in his relatively bigger form, with all the smiling and laughing and general...cuteness. Yes, he is cute; there, Tobio admits it. But in an objective kind of way, like the way he finds puppies and babies cute, definitely not attracted in any way kind of cute.

Point is, Hinata is still some mysterious creature, and unpredictability is a very powerful weapon, as much as ignorance is a deadly weakness.

But, does he really need to give much thought about this? It’s not like he’ll have to put up with the genie for a long time. He could ask for his wishes right now and be done with it, although he only has one. There’s another one trickling at the back of his mind, like an annoying little mosquito buzzing in his ears. Ah, fuck it, it won’t hurt to try.

“Oi.”

Hinata stops his prattling to look at Tobio. “Yes, Kageyama Tobio?”

Tobio blinks. “What?”

“What what? You called, I answered!”

“Why do you have to say my whole name like that?”

Hinata tilts his head, messy hair flopping. “Why not? That’s your name, right?”

Tobio slaps a palm on his forehead. “Dumbass, you just use one or the other. How can you not know that?”

“I’m being respectful!” Hinata huffs. He gestures at Tobio. “You’re my master!”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s a strange look on Hinata’s face as he stares at Tobio, lips puckering into a contemplative pout. Tobio clears his throat and averts his gaze, shooing away intrusive thoughts of ‘ _cute_ ’ back into the recesses of his mind.

“Geez, fine, then,” Hinata says eventually. “Which one?”

“Whichever.”

“Okay! Then, Tobio, what do you want?”

Tobio turns his head back so fast he gives himself whiplash.

Then he freezes.

“Wha—why are you looking like that again?!?” Tobio shrieks, pointing at Hinata and his stupid golden-tanned skin and stupid sideway grin.

The sneaky bastard just shrugs. “I just feel like it.”

Tobio’s hand twitches, all of his mental willpower focused on resisting the urge to pull his own hair out. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What? No!” Hinata gasps in fake offense, but the suppressed giggles are already lurking, then he explodes, clutching his stomach as he doubles over in laughter.

“You shit!” Tobio bellows, but Hinata just cackles louder, lifting off the ground as he folds over himself even more.

“B-but y-your ex-expressions are s-so hilarious—!” he snickers.

“Don’t make me use my wish to permanently shut you up!” Tobio threatens.

The loud, uproarious laughs die down as soon as the words leave Tobio’s mouth, and waves of regret immediately engulfs Tobio at the panicked look on those wide eyes.

“P-Please, don’t,” a tiny voice whispers. Hinata reverts back to being a kid, but somehow he looks even smaller, thin shoulders hunching up to his ears as he pulls and twists his vest. Tobio’s inside feels like it’s being doused by acid.

“I won’t. I didn’t...I didn’t mean it,” he says softly as he makes a tentative approach at Hinata, as if he’s approaching a scared, little animal. A sudden thought flares in his mind, mentally pulling up materials he’s read and studied about psychology. “Did...did someone ask for that wish? Before?”

A small, timid nod confirms his suspicions, completely drowning Tobio in that vat of murky shame.

“I-I know I get too loud sometimes and I tend to joke around,” Hinata sniffs. “But I-I’m just trying to be friendly…” He straightens up with a sharp inhale. “But if that’s what you want then—”

“No,” Tobio says sharply.

“No?”

‘ _You don’t have to change for someone else’s convenience_ ,’ Tobio almost says, but the words feel too heavy, so much weight in it, and it lodges painfully in his throat. “You can...be yourself. However you like,” he mutters instead.

The cheery sparkle in those amber-lit eyes perks up again. “Really?”

Tobio nods, ignoring the prickle of heat climbing up his neck.

“So I can change forms whenever I like?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tobio mumbles, eyes dropping to the ground. Then his world is shifting as something heavy careens him off balance.

“ _Waaaah_! I knew it! You’re actually a really good person!” Hinata shouts at his ear as arms wind tight around Tobio’s middle, squeezing every ounce of air from his lungs. Orange curls tickle his nose, as Hinata squishes his face on Tobio’s chest, before looking up, eyes and lips smiling at Tobio.

“Thank you!” Hinata beams and the small dining area suddenly becomes brighter.

Tobio grunts as he palms the glowing face away from his. “Oi—get off me!”

Hinata does, _thankfully_ , but he’s still doing that bright thing with his whole face. “Hehe. Thank you! Like really!” he repeats, no less as cheerful. “I was sorta scared at first, though. I thought you were going to wish that, and last time was so bad, I literally couldn’t talk!” He puts a palm up and puffs up his chest. “But I promise I won’t be as loud anymore!”

Tobio scoffs as he adjusts his shirt. “I doubt that. And I won’t waste one of my wishes like that, anyway.”

Hinata grins, hands dropping and clasping it behind his back as he swings back and forth. “Okaaaay, _Toooobioooo~_ ”

“On second thought, just Kageyama is fine,” Tobio grumbles, turning away and heading to the living room.

“Eeeeh? You said I can choose!” Hinata whines behind Tobio.

“I changed my mind.”

“Geh. Fine!”

He’s eerily silent after that; Tobio takes it as Hinata actually doing good on his promise to behave. Tobio plops down the large couch then he lets out an undignified yelp when he sees Hinata already sitting beside him.

“What the fuck?! When did you—you know what, I’m not going to ask anymore.” He glares at the snickering little shit. “Just don’t sneak up on people like that!”

The amused face suddenly turns pondering. “Oh yeah...I almost gave one of my past masters a heart attack with the teleporting stuff.”

“So don’t do that.”

Hinata giggles. “Genies can’t kill, stupid.” Then his eyes pull wide, and he stands. Or hovers two feet off the floor, whatever.

“That reminds me! Are you ready for your wish?” he asks giddily, tiny fists balled in excitement. “All you have to say is, _‘I wish for…’_ then just sit back and relax and watch me work my awesomeness. Ah! And be specific, alright? There’s no take-backs once you make a wish.”

Tobio nods. Alright, here it is. This is Tobio finally cracking under all the stress and pressure, and with a forceful clear of his throat and huge gulp of air, he says goodbye to the final vestiges of his pride and dignity, and makes his first wish:

“I wish for Yachi Hitoka to fall in love with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, I am, once again, leaving you with a cliffhanger xD I cannot guarantee when I'll be updating next since break is over and it's back to my hell—I mean, reality that is med school T^T We'll be having our shifting exams soon (wish me luck!!!! No seriously, I need it orz) and after that is a short semestral break, so maybe then I can go back to writing. But again, I can't make any promises (^人^). Thank you for your patience and I hope the new year ahead will be kinder to everyone! ❤❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Andy for going beyond just beta-ing and taking time to correct any errors, grammatical or otherwise, and for all the precious advices that helped me plow through the tough barrier of starting a story after months of writing abstinence. Thank you so much!!! And of course, to the talented Talia for being my artist pair for the big bang and making the absolutely gorgeous art for this fic!! Genie Hinata looks so perfect oh gosh I'm weeping /(ㄒoㄒ)/~~ Thank you so, so much!!! ❤❤❤
> 
> ***  
> I love getting feedbacks, and they motivate me tremendously, so drop them in the comments! Kudos are also appreciated :) Thank you for reading! ♥️
> 
> scream about kagehina or hq in general with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/artemisia_hq?s=09) or [tumblr](https://artemisia--hq.tumblr.com)
> 
> i have more self-indulgent kagehinas in a mixed bag of fluff, smut, and everything in between [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisia_HQ/works)


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